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IS SONGS FROM THE ST. LAWRENCE.
Nay, nay! ye come not with the laughing eyes,
And ringlets streaming in the sunny air, And bounding step, that with affection flies
To meet the tender friend, and soothe his care!
Nay, nay ! ye gather slowly, sadly there, Around your mother with a silent brow,
And naught can wake your wonted smiles so fair, Not e'en the richness of the sunset glow, Which now in sweetness rests on all things here below.
She welcomes not her children, as they come
To rest beside her, as in days gone by! That mother—ah ! her brow is dark with gloom,
And dimness, too, hath darkly veil'd her eye ;
Her breast no more can heave the painful sigh ! Come, rest beside her, free from grief and care,
Together now in darkness sweetly lie! Ye of the laughing lips and sunny hair, We leave you to repose in solemn silence there.
TirERE are voices in the moonlight,
Voices in the silent stars, Voices in the mighty ocean,
Rolling o'er its gems and spars.